just like laying on the floor and touching fingertips. same hands that grasp bottles & smash them on the traintracks just to prove that we exist as something physical. i guess i just want more than that. im tired of these talks of parking lots and pay checks, i just wanna know that you'll be there for me when i lose my keys, or my sense of balance, or my ability to trust in anything. i'd do the same for you, id like to think that ive tried to but when it all boils down to broken plans & chain smoked cigarettes it's kinda hard to not be sheltered & somber, wishing for a rainy day or last year to come back again. survive with bloody knees. cut knuckles mean we're not alone. soft words that hit like darts. shoulders offered as a home. forget to hold our own on late nights next to the telephone.
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